


Stay

by StrikerDouchecanoe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, after The Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikerDouchecanoe/pseuds/StrikerDouchecanoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on tumblr. Set the night after Finn fucks everything up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

Clarke couldn’t sleep. Not surprising, given what she’d witnessed that day, but every time she closed her eyes she relived Finn murdering Grounders.

.

Not just warriors, either. He’d gunned down a teenager. Octavia had stayed to help the Grounders bury their dead, silent tears still streaming down her face when Bellamy and Murphy marched Finn away. Murphy, for his part, hadn’t spoken since. He only shook his head when anyone spoke to him.

Clarke had stumbled along behind Murphy and Bellamy, all the way back to where Alpha Station sat on the ground, unable to believe what she’d seen—or worse, the joy on Finn’s face when he saw her.

She sat up, finally giving up on sleep and stepping out into the hallway, needing to do something—anything—to get the images out of her mind. 

Clarke wasn’t sure how she ended up outside the door where Bellamy was sleeping, but she couldn’t bring herself to knock, pacing back and forth in the hallway. Despite the reunion the day before and all the time she’d had with him since, it was strange to seek Bellamy out.

Despite the fact that she’d heard his pulse hammering when he crushed her against his chest, despite the fact that they hadn’t been able to look away from each other long after she pulled away, Clarke felt like knocking on the door would be stepping over some great invisible line that she couldn’t bring herself to cross.

She had just decided against knocking on the steel door (for the fifth time) and was making her retreat down the hall to find somewhere else to sit when she heard the door open behind her.

"Clarke?" Bellamy’s voice was husky in the silence of the hallway.

"Bellamy. Sorry. Were you asleep?"

"Nah," he answered. "Keep seein’ Finn—" Bellamy broke off mid-sentence and waved his hand aimlessly next to him. 

"Me too," Clarke said. "Every time I shut my eyes."

Bellamy nodded. “Come on in?” he asked, a vulnerability in his brown eyes that Clarke had seen countless times since the night she told him she needed him. 

She just nodded and followed Bellamy inside, sitting gingerly on the end of his bed and staring at her hands in her lap.

"If it hadn’t been for me," she started, trying to find the words. "Maybe if I’d outright rejected him, this wouldn’t have happened."

"Don’t put this on yourself, Clarke," Bellamy said, sitting down next to her. "Look, I’ve been thinking about Murphy. The war changed him too, you know? When we got here, he was itching for a fight. Any fight."

"And even after everything we put him through, he tried to stop Finn from killing innocent people in cold blood," Clarke finished for him. "Still, I just—"

Bellamy reached out and squeezed her hand. “I know how you feel about Spacewalker,” he said, the barest hint of derision in his tone. “But he has made nothing but shitty choices since he was put on that drop ship. This included.”

Clarke nodded, thinking back to Finn’s decision to get out of his seat on the way down. Then he’d decided to cheat on Raven with her. He’d chosen to lie to both of them. He’d chosen to pull the trigger. Finn Collins kept on doing stupid shit, and it seemed that he cared less and less who was affected by it.

Then, the first part of Bellamy’s sentence registered. “What do you mean,  _you know how I feel about him_?” Clarke asked, suddenly hyperaware that Bellamy hadn’t released her hand. 

"C’mon, Princess," he said, voice suddenly soft. "It’s not hard to see you still love him." If Clarke noticed his shoulders tighten, she never mentioned it.

"Bellamy, I don’t. Really. There was a time when I did, but… Between lying to me and what I just saw… I could never love someone like that." She blinked furiously, trying to ignore the stinging behind her eyes and the sudden lump in her throat. "You know, Bel, you did this the right way, down here," she added, shaking her head ruefully.

"How do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"Not getting into anything romantic. Keeping your emotions out of it. Not— _falling for anyone_.”

Bellamy laughed, low and warm, and squeezed her hand again. “That’s exactly the opposite of what I’ve done down here,” he said, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “Guess you don’t know me as well as you think.”

"Wait,  _what?”_ Clarke demanded, turning to fully face him. “ _Who?_ ”

"You don’t need to know right now," was Bellamy’s infuriating response.

Clarke just shook her head. She’d never get it out of him if he didn’t want to talk, but she wasn’t ready to leave either. Staring at the door, she chewed at her bottom lip and straightened her shoulders. 

"I should let you get some rest," she said, gently disentangling her hand from his and standing up. She made for the door, but not before Bellamy caught her hand in his again. 

"Clarke," he rasped. "Stay?"

"Yeah," she managed, heart hammering so loudly she could hear it. Clarke was pretty sure this counted as stepping over a line they couldn’t uncross.

She lay down next to Bellamy on the narrow bed, their shoulders barely touching, not daring to look at him. This was  _definitely_ stepping across a line. 

Bellamy shifted onto his side, facing her, and reached out with the arm he wasn’t laying on top of. Inviting her closer, Clarke realized. She scooted towards him and he managed to get both arms around her, holding her like he had at the gate the day before. She wrapped her free arm around his waist and tucked her head under his chin, closing her eyes with no small amount of trepidation. But to her intense relief, dying Grounders and Finn’s face no longer haunted the backs of her eyelids. 

"Bellamy?" Clarke whispered against his collarbone. 

"Yeah?"

"I don’t see Finn anymore. When I close my eyes."

She felt him relax and pull her a little tighter against him. “Me either, Princess,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Night.”

"Good night, Bellamy," Clarke murmured. 

 

That night was the best either of them had slept in over a year—Bellamy since his mother was floated and Octavia was imprisoned, and Clarke since she’d watched her father die. And sure, things were still a mess. There was Finn to think about, in handcuffs under Chancellor Griffin’s order. There was Mount Weather. In many ways, things were worse than they had been on the Ark—but for one night, to a princess and a king, none of it seemed able to touch them.

And if Bellamy woke up with Clarke in his arms, pressing kisses to his skin along the collar of his shirt, well, he figured maybe he could tell her he’d fallen for her after all.


End file.
